I think of myself as still being about five.

In the end the only thing that you can have on your side is time. The only way to gain time is by living it. And if I live expending my energy worrying about other people's perceptions, then I'm missing my moment.

While you're pregnant you're made to feel not beautiful or sexually viable. You're either sexy, or you're a mother. I didn't want to have to choose, so I challenged that.

I would say what scares me is that I'm going to ultimately find out at the end of my life that I'm really not lovable, that I'm not worthy of being loved. That there's something fundamentally wrong with me.

In my personal life I wasn't someone who cried easily, someone who was extremely vulnerable, you know, in that way that's constantly seeking out affirmation from other people. I've always been much more the person who took care of everyone else.

I don't know anybody who is raising their hand saying, "Oh God, I love being vulnerable and needy."

Work has enhanced and certainly supported my feelings toward myself, because it's been a reflection of goals I've set. But if you're not happy with yourself on the inside, then what does it matter?